


Children's Footsteps: The Beach

by Willow_River



Category: Thrilling Intent (Web Series)
Genre: Ghosts, Pre-Canon, Spooky
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-27
Updated: 2016-12-27
Packaged: 2018-09-12 14:49:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 385
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9077305
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Willow_River/pseuds/Willow_River





	

The beaches of the Shrouded Isles were always cold and wet this time of year. Winter tended to do that. The islands weren’t prone to snow, probably due to Kyl’il’s influence, but that only meant they were usually assaulted with a cold rain instead.

Dont didn’t mind. There was always lots to find there, especially during stormy season. Amidst the flotsam and jetsam were all sorts of treasures waiting to be found. Seashells in perfect condition, pieces of gold or silver jewelry, and even preserved foods that she’d never tried before all washed up on the beach with entertaining regularity. Sometimes there would be something new, sometimes something she needed, and sometimes just something pretty that she could string up to hang in her window.

There was something different about today, however. She couldn’t put her hoof on it, but it was just a feeling. Something was just slightly off.

Dismissing it as a chill in the wind that bothered her ears, Dont bundled up and skipped out to the beach to see what treasures she’d find. She waved hello to the other spiritfolk she passed, humming to herself about the things she hoped would be there today.

Pickings were slim and she was about to head back for lunch when Dont spotted something odd. She’d thought it was here own footprints at first, but they were at least half the size and seemed to wander off in a random direction. Curiosity took the pigbat and she couldn’t help but follow to see where they led.

About a mile or so on, there was a wrecked ship. It was the closest she’d ever seen one make to shore, stopped right about where the water would come up to her knees at low tide.

The tide was coming in now, perhaps an hour out from being at its peak. Realistically, nobody on that ship should be alive. Charoth always made sure of that. There was a figure standing poised at the tip of the bowsprit, though. A tiny child, pale and wispy in appearance. Her dress moved in defiance of the wind, and she stared straight at Dont.

With a squeal, the pigbat turned and ran. If there were going to be ghosts washing up on shore, this would be her last trip to the beach.


End file.
